Homemade Dresses

I've been trying to get my pictures somewhat organized lately and I keep running across little gems like this one:I never noticed it before, but all of our dresses are homemade in this picture! This is around 1965 or so, and that's just the way it was done back then. I'm standing in front there, and I had obviously been called away from playing outside with the neighbor girl (to the far right) who must've been distracting to my stepfather, who included her in the family photo shoot. Ah well, there were so many of us (six), it was sometime hard to keep track of which ones were his.

From right to left: my sister Judy, stepbrother Bill, me, sister Jane Ann, stepsister Donna. Not shown is stepbrother Harold.

Here is my mother circa 1950's:

She always made her own clothes, but not this dress. It must've been a special occasion to be able to own a store-bought dress, and the rare event must have prompted this picture. I love the velvet ribbon and cameo pin choker she rigged. Dressing up must've been more of an adventure back then; a treasure hunt of what you had and what you could put together. My mother always LOVED clothes and shoes. I did not inherit her love of clothes and I especially loathe shoes (shoes=foot binding torture devices meant to hobble women so that they can't run away or get anything constructive done because of all the limping around in unbearable pain).I detest shoes and I detest shoe shopping. I'd rather shop for a bikini than for shoes...and that's really saying something, because I'd rather stand in line at the DMV than do either.

I also ran across this picture: my mother at her 80th birthday party. This picture tugs at my heart because you can see a little glimmer of moisture in her eyes, and that's special because I only saw tears in my mother's eyes one other time in my whole life. And here, it's not because of sadness, but because so many of her friends (the ones that are still left) are singing "Happy Birthday" to her:

This was four years ago and she's still going strong, still accumulating shoes and sending me clothes for Christmas, because god knows, I still can't pick out my own. Thanks, Mom.